


Flightless Birds

by theescapist99



Series: A Nice Place To Visit [4]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Scars, child abuse mention, i swear no tricks this time, kind of a drabble really, mary lou mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 05:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10915365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theescapist99/pseuds/theescapist99
Summary: Amid the heat of a sexual moment, Percival notices two particularly unique scars that run down both sides of Credence's back. When Percival inquires about them, Credence explains that Mary Lou had enjoyed using the Greek legend of Icarus to warn him against flying too close to the sun.Naturally, Percival wastes no time in pointing out just how wrong she was.





	Flightless Birds

 

“What are these?”

Percival traced the long, vertical scars that ran parallel on either side of Credence’s bare back.

The majority of the pale canvas was covered in small white slashes and gashes that were clumsy and tangled -- scars that could have just as easily been mistaken for an accident, like the kind of scars you get from falling from a tree as a kid and landing on uneven pavement.

Of course, Percival knows enough of Credence’s past to know that that was not the case for even a _single_ scar on the boy’s body.

 These were no accidents… not a one.

Yet the two scars that Percival traced with a finger from either hand, these had now caught his attention. For Percival had simply never realized how _straight_ they were.

The top half of Credence – the skinny frame that had been panting and heaving from sexual exhilaration, shifted quickly to breaths born from panic and anxiety.

Whereas the younger man had allowed Percival’s hands to touch and grab and pinch anywhere else without question, it was only when Percival had brushed lightly on these – when he had asked about them – that the boy seemed uncomfortable.

“They’re nothing…” Credence mumbled.

Percival could tell the younger man was speaking lowly on purpose, in order to hide any cracks in his voice that would make the lie obvious.

“…Just more scars from Ma’,” the boy insisted.

“Why are they not like the rest?” Percival asked, fully aware of Credence’s growing annoyance at his persistence.

 It was a new puzzle piece, and now that Percival had noticed it, he wanted to know where it fit – regardless of what he was interrupting. It was just the way his mind worked… bad for social situations, but a helpful personality trait for the director’s chosen profession.

“These go straight down, parallel…” Percival muttered lowly in the quiet of their bedroom.

The director’s eyes had grown dark as he fixated on his observation --- the way the scars both started right at the shoulder blades and descended down, almost as though something had been surgically removed.

Credence sighed, perhaps surrendering to the probability that Percival was not going to drop the subject.

At least, Percival would think that Credence would know him well enough by now – regardless of what he had been raised to believe, Credence _was_ far from stupid.

The boy twisted himself around to look at Percival… and Percival didn’t miss the sharp intake of breath when Credence finally saw the serious expression on the older man’s face, or the slight widening of eyes that were much less bloodshot than his own.

“Ma’ used to tell me that I was too much like Icarus… like in Greek mythology,” Credence explained, and he looked at Percival expectantly.

Percival Graves was a well-read man, and someone who was regarded by many as an intellectual -- so it was needless for Credence to explain the legend of Icarus to him, and the boy knew it.

Percival did indeed know the tale well – Icarus was a figure from Greek Mythology, a young man who flew on wings built from feather and wax, but despite his father’s warnings flew much too close to the sun.

The wings melted, and Icarus fell – the young man’s legacy to be a classic tale of human hubris and its dangers for generations to follow.

“You didn’t actually try to fly, did you?” Percival half joked, having a hard time imagining Credence doing anything that would constitute comparisons to the Greek legend.

“No…” Credence answered meekly.

He turned around fully, Percival’s noisy mattress only barely squeaking under the shifting weight that was still less than a grown person’s. The boy hesitated for another moment, black eyes wandering and seemingly very interested in the mundane backdrop of their bedroom.

“…but she always thought I might,” Credence whispered finally, “ Whenever I was really bad, she would cut my back open, and then she’d make me lie down in a shallow bath of rubbing alcohol… to burn the wings off.”

Percival withdrew his hand finally, curling it into a fist to help bear the sudden surge of lividity that shook his core with a violent tremor.

Credence failed to look sympathetic, warily eyeing Percival with an expression that silently scolded:

_I told you to drop it. See? I knew you’d react this way._

Percival sighed -- and he could only shake his head from the senselessness of it all.

Neither man spoke as Percival took a moment to gather himself from the shock of the confession. It amazed Percival that he still managed to be surprised at the savagery of Mary Lou Barbone – just when he thought he had heard the worst of it, Credence would let slip something else that would fill Percival with even more rage than the last admission.

How could one small woman – a woman who was supposed to be a saint to the hungry and homeless children of the streets, no less – be capable of so much evil?  

Outside the window, the rhythmic chirping of crickets that serenaded the sleeping city of New York gave Percival a rather silly idea – but the director supposed it was better than nothing. He smiled slightly in the dim lighting, reaching out again to grip Credence’s right wrist.

“Get on your coat,” Percival commanded suddenly.

 

* * *

 

On the smooth handle of his old broomstick, Percival held on to Credence as tightly as he possibly could without hurting the boy.

They levitated over the city skyline, ears popping as they gradually rose higher up.

Credence was terrified -- as one might imagine. The boy was sobbing into Percival’s shoulder, screaming over the high howl of the wind, “Percival please, let’s go back down!”

But Percival ignored him --- commanding the broom’s shaft upward until they were as close to the stars as they could get without losing oxygen.

When the broom finally halted, Percival took his free hand – the one that wasn’t tightly secured against Credence’s side – and he seized the chin that was soaked in tears, forcing it away from the safety of Percival’s bicep.

“Look up, my boy,” Percival nuzzled against the younger man’s tearful face before he guided the boy’s sights higher up still, keeping the fingers pressed against Credence’s pointed chin until he saw it.

The moon – bright, cosmic, and full – was colossal in their close proximity, and Credence gaped at the harbinger of twilight like it was the face of God Himself.

The dangerous altitude forgotten -- Credence’s weeping was replaced with a breathless sort of wonder.

“Beautiful…” Credence gasped with the purest kind of fascination.

On the younger man’s face was that kind of simultaneous disbelief and amazement that was born from witnessing miracles – that look of someone who had yet to be jaded by the constant reminder that there _was_ no such thing as miracles.

It was the kind of innocent bewilderment that Percival almost envied – but regardless, they didn’t come all the way up here for Percival.

“Your Ma may have tried to cut off your wings darling,” Percival told Credence as he stared at the same moon -- the same celestial backdrop of magnified starlight and scattered clouds, “But I bet she never expected you’d have a broom.”

Percival looked over at Credence as he heard the boy chuckle.

It was quite the accomplishment to make Credence Barebone laugh and Percival always tried to savor in it whenever he could -- no matter how small of a giggle or chortle it might be, as it always gave tug to the corners of his own lips.

“Do… do you think I could use this broom?” Credence asked meekly, “Could you really teach me how to fly?”

“My boy,” Percival squeezed Credence against himself, pressing his mouth against the top of his head as he spoke, “If you can learn to safely use this broom then you’re free to use it whenever you want. You can have it, in fact.”

Credence looked startled at the offer, pulling away from Percival slightly.

“Oh no, Percival…I couldn’t do that,” Credence shook his head, “You said this was your school broom, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Percival nodded, and he said with an affectionate smile, “But as it so happens, Credence… I also _really_ hate flying.”

“Then why did you…?”

Percival shrugged, “Because I hate your mother more, I suppose.”

Credence gawked at the older man in confusion, but Percival did not want to waste the moment doing all that much more explaining. He leaned in and kissed the boy – wondering just how much trouble they might be in if any No Maj’s were using telescopes to look at the moon at that very moment.

Yet against the ferocity of Credence’s open mouthed kiss – chapped lips that were empowered by feelings of both validation and liberation – Percival found that he didn’t much care either way.

Under the older man’s wing, Credence _would_ fly -- and neither man’s wings would melt, for they were built by neither feathers nor wax – but rather by love and magic.

**Author's Note:**

> God that was so gay XD
> 
> Just letting you guys know I have effectively managed to break my laptop again so I may or may not post much for a bit. And yes, I did delete the freaks story and the bedtime story stuff because quite frankly I just kind of lost track of where that was going but if I can outline it better I maaaaay post them again but probably an "improved" version. 
> 
> As far as new stories go though I just don't really feel like I have anything "original" to bring to the table so it may be best if I just take a hiatus anyway... but who knows maybe I'll be suddenly struck with new inspiration or something. 
> 
> So anyhow, see you all around hopefully. :)


End file.
